The Nighttime Visitor
by taniaSLC
Summary: A retelling of East O' The Sun, West of the Moon, told from the perspective of the woman who dooms the Bear and then saves him. Includes scenes that are sexual in nature.
1. In which all that was found is lost

**The Nighttime Visitor**

**or: East O' The Sun, West O' The Moon**

Disclaimer: This story contains adult themes and interactions. You've been warned.**  
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_It can't end like this- I won't let it. After all that I went through to get here, to come to this impossible castle, which no one believed I could find, surviving a journey none believed possible; I will not surrender to defeat. I fought my way to the castle that is east of the sun and west of the moon, and I did it alone. I did it for him; I did it for us. I did it because I am the only one who loves him enough to move the earth and winds to fight for him._

_ I'd thought that, maybe, the fight to get here would have been enough to prove me worthy, that everything would fall into place and it would turn out that that had been enough of a test. But of course it isn't that simple. Nothing about him and me ever could be, could it? I fell in love with a polar bear- how could I expect anything to be simple after that?_

_ He is just lying there, on the bed beside me. He must be drugged, because I try to shake him and he does not stir. I scream and he doesn't so much as twitch in response. In my panic, I begin to sob, and I feel shame for giving in to such a waste of energy instead of coming up with a plan. But I have travelled so long, so hard, carried first down long, long roads, then cradled in the hands of the winds. My body was only held together by my mind, by my certitude that I would get to him and I would fix everything. I would free him from the evil trolls, we'd leave this place together, and I would once more have my love. _

_ When I entered the room and saw him, it felt as if it were closing, this strange, long chapter of hardship. But he lies, comatose, on the bed and he does not respond. Once the tears begin to flow, I cannot stop them. I let them keep flowing, and I wail- pouring out, in salt water and wordless screams, the entire story of what's happened since I saw him, the story of my soul which is lost without him, my heart which breaks and mourns the fact that our separation is my own fault, of my fear that I won't be enough to save him._

_ I touch his face and remember the first time I touched it- I remember the first night he came... _

I'd gone to the castle with the Polar Bear, and it was like all of my dreams coming true at once. I agreed to marry him in exchange for protection and well-being for my family, who thought me mad for accepting such terms. But I'd always wanted something different, and the Bear certainly was. The castle offered luxury I'd never known as the daughter of a poor wood-cutter, but that first night I had felt a screaming loneliness. The bed so large but so empty except for me, and the room, gaping in the dark, and no one but me and the Bear in the whole castle.

But then the door opened, and I thought he'd come- to wish me goodnight?- but the footsteps that crossed to the bed were human. The weight of the bed shifting as someone joined me wasn't the inordinate weight of a bear, who couldn't fit in the bed anyway, but that of a man. I was so afraid, but so curious, as he had settled in, pulling blankets slightly away from me and over himself. In the dark he reached for me, pulled me to him, cradled me in his arms and held me. Somewhere in my head, I seemed to hear my mother's voice as a warning that something untoward was about to occur, but it didn't. Instead he held me, he spoke in a low voice- words in language I didn't understand, but words that made all the tight places inside of me unclench, open their fists, and relax for the first time. I melted into him, against him, lulled by his voice and the sound of him drawing breath until I finally fell asleep.

He was gone in the morning, but that was all right, because I spent the day with the Bear. That first morning was when he told me his name. I'd laughed, finding it odd that he had a name and that it was Bastian- such a normal, human name! But my laughter seemed to hurt his feelings, so I laughed no more and instead we talked. We talked and talked until I fell asleep that night, sitting in front of the fireplace, stretched out on a settee, in the Bear's- in Bastian's- private library.

I woke for a bit when I felt arms lifting me, carrying me through the abiding darkness of the castle hallways, to my rooms. I was laid on the bed, and was already falling asleep again as I noticed that the person who'd carried me was changing my clothes for me. Too sleepy to be concerned, I closed my eyes once more. I didn't open them until the next morning, alone again, but still feeling the sensation of arms having been wrapped around me.

And so it had progressed- days spent with the Bear, talking, laughing, walking, playing; nights spent in the arms of a man whose face I never saw. He came at the darkest watch of the night, and he left before the light of dawn, but he kept me company. He soothed me, he comforted me, and after a while I noticed that I was stirring in response to him, that the soothing touch of him lulling me to sleep was awakening me, quickening something for which I had no name.

I remember the first time that I touched him before he had a chance to reach for me. When, in response to his arrival, I was facing his side of the bed. How easy it'd been to reach, to touch his face in the darkness, measuring the place was the smoothness of his skin met the roughness of unshaven beard, and then lower, where the beard ended and met the vulnerable skin of his neck. I remember suddenly needing to feel all of him, to touch all of him.

I'd moved across the bed, our bed, in the darkness, until I was next to him, but that wasn't close enough. I slid a leg across his stomach, slowly moving across him until I drew myself astride him. He wore no shirt, and my hands eagerly felt all of him that I could, moving across broad chest, to smooth, round shoulders, to the protrusion of his collarbone, up his neck, to touch his face once more. I lowered myself so my face was close to his, and felt something inside of me respond as if this had been what I'd wanted all along, this pressing of myself to him. I moved my hips again, and the friction of touching him, of him touching me, spread a spark through me. I began to move again and again, not knowing what was happening, but sensing that this was some other sort of magic; magic like the bear had, something he hadn't told me about.

The man beneath me continued to lay there, and I wondered why he did not respond by either word or movement. He neither encouraged nor discouraged what I was doing, and so I continued. I could feel my breathing change, something was coming, and it was something that my body wanted. I stopped thinking and found my body adjusting, moving itself around in just such a way to increase the pleasure of what I was doing, spreading my legs further, pressing the cleft of my body harder against him.

Suddenly, he did move- his hands came to my waist and held me still. For the first time, he spoke aloud to me in my own language, addressed me directly. His voice reverberated on some strange new frequency within me, filling my mind as well as my ears.

"Are you certain that this is what you want?"

"Yes."

"Are you afraid?"

Afraid? What was there to fear? I was with him. Was there something unknown in the dark of the night surrounding us? Was I do doing something that was somehow wrong, about to bring a judgement upon me?

"No, I'm more afraid of stopping than moving forward."

"If you're certain, and this is what you want, then I will help. If I help, will you kiss me?"

"I'll do that without your help or with."

I leaned forward, laying myself against him, and even though I couldn't see in the dark, my lips found his in an instant. My first kiss, and our lips touched in way that seemed so perfectly suited, it was if they were made for each other. I did not know if ever kiss felt like this, I only knew that I wanted to devour him, to drink him in, to take him into myself completely and feel him within me in every way. I touched his face, I touched his neck, I felt the sensation of his muscles moving as he kissed me back, as he rose to meet me. I held his head, pressing him ever closer, not letting him move away, not letting him break the connection as it sealed between us.

His hands on my hips picked me up, and I nearly protested, but he settled me back against him, against a ridge that caught perfectly at something I hadn't known was there before. I understood that this was the source of all this pleasure, and I writhed. I pressed again, I ground into him and he broke the kiss, but only to throw back his head and moan. The evidence that my actions pleased him made me feel heady, drunk with whatever power this was. It seemed that the power wasn't mine, it was just something coursing through me over and over again, heightening into something unknown, terrible, and great. I worried that I was pressing hard enough against him to hurt him, but he showed no signs of pain, and I couldn't have stopped if I wanted. His hands moved to my shoulders, down my arms, till his hands locked with mine. Holding his hands, I pressed them down to the bed, bracing my arms for leverage as I drove harder, until my body was seizing in some sort of fit, starting where it touched him, but pushing up, all through me, screaming over my entire body, seeming to fill my mind. I drew myself up, stretching over him, letting the pleasure soar up and out of me. It escaped from me in gasps as I panted for air, my throat burning dry and I didn't care because this was greater magic than a talking bear, it was greater than the riches I'd found, and it was something I never wanted to end.

The moment passed. Slowly, languidly, the intensity abated until I was breathing normally again. I laid back down, stretching against the length of his body, my legs and arms wrapped around him, my face buried in his neck. I was tired, and felt like sleeping, but then I smelled his neck and felt myself start all over again. I brushed my face against his beard, began to lick at the skin where it ended, and then I gently pressed my teeth there as well.

"You should rest." His voice sounded strained.

"Did I hurt you?"

A chuckle. "No. I am in no pain. Are you?"

"No. I want more..." I lifted myself so that our faces were pressed together, and moved to his mouth once more. His beard was slightly scratchy, but I ignored it as my lips parted, and I delved my tongue into him.

He broke the kiss. "Do you know what we are doing?"

"Do you?"

"Yes."

"Then tell me."

"Are you sure you want to know?"

"I want whatever it takes for us to keep doing this. I want more of this: I want all of this."

"You are not afraid?"

"Should I be?"

"Some bonds, once formed, cannot be unmade. I would not have you bound to me against your will."

That gave me pause. "I am promised to the Bear, to Bastian. Is it possible to be bound to you both?"

I think I heard him smile. "Yes. It is more than possible, if it is your wish."

"Then I could have him as my friend, as my companion and eventually my husband; but still have you, and this?"

"Do you still wish to marry him?"

"I said I would. I will keep faith as he has kept faith by helping me and my family."

"Does he want a wife who feels only gratitude, not love?"

"It isn't only gratitude. It is a promise. A promise made by me is a promise that will be kept by me."

"Does he desire a wife who is only there to keep her word, or one who would not tolerate being parted from him because she loves him in the depth of her soul?"

"If he were seeking that, would he have bargained for a wife in an exchange of promises?"

"All marriages are based on the giving and accepting of vows. And perhaps the promises he made to you only seemed to be what they were. Perhaps he loved you with all of his soul from the moment he laid eyes on you and saw you smile. From the first time he heard you sing as he passed your cottage in the woods. Perhaps the first time you smiled and invited him into your home- perhaps he knew you were the only woman he would ever love, and maybe the only woman who would love him enough to break the spell that is upon him."

"He has a spell?"

"Few polar bears who speak, are lords of their own castles, and desire to wed young women are free of some sort of spell."

As soon as he said it in those terms, I knew he spoke the truth. It hadn't occurred to me to wonder if Bastian's situation were something like a spell; something that might be undone. Was it possible that my future husband might one day break the spell and attain some other form? How would I feel if he were not my Bear?

"Do you love Bastian?"

"I don't know... I feel affection for him, but I don't know love. What I have for him may be love."

"And for me?"

"For you I have desire, a sort of hunger. But also- how long and lonely these nights would be without you! Even if I never kissed you, even if I hadn't felt the need to find out what all you offered, I need your arms around me to sleep, I need your words to bid sleep come and take me. I need both you and Bastian, I think. He fills my days with talking, and he's become a very dear friend, at least. But he cannot come to my bed and take me in his arms, as you can. Can I not have the both of you?"

He moved himself, and me because I was atop him. After a moment, we were in the same position as always- I was laying in his arms, he was curled up behind me, as if sheltering me with his body. I realized that there would be no more kissing tonight, only sleeping and thinking of what we'd said to each other.

"I will give you time to think of it. After what we've done this evening, the bond has begun to form. To continue on this road will deepen and strengthen that bond. It is what I desire, but I am not worried about me. You must have time to think about what you're saying and doing before you promise anything, with either words or deeds. Tomorrow night, when I return, we can either sleep as we've done, or we will continue what you started tonight. It will be your decision."


	2. In which blood must be spilled

_And now, at this castle at the end of the world, where he is insensible to my shamefully piteous cries, I remember with a tangible pain of longing the night that came after..._

I remember how he came to me and found someone willing to make promises beyond words. Someone whose body seemed to have some sort of knowledge beyond what lay in her mind. Someone who not only willingly but eagerly climbed atop him as before and this time with no clothing or misgivings to separate us. I remember how it felt to feel him pierce me, his tenderness and restraint. The initial sensation of pain giving over to only pleasure as our hands found each other and we held on while climbing higher together, swearing a silent yet sacred oath to never be parted.

Curse my mother for her insistence on finding out my secret. Curse my curiosity for being fed by her words and heeding her advice. After my marriage to Bastian, he was so kind to let me go and visit with my family. I mourned the prospect of the loneliness that would be brought by the absence of both him and my nighttime visitor, but I felt it my duty. He warned me not to let duty cross into the realm of listening to those who would harm me; I just never imagined that he meant I ought to avoid speaking with my mother, listening to her advice.

"Take the magic candle. You've only to wave your hand over it three times to light it. See the face of the man who is in your bed, see the face that the child within you will bear. Find out who he is, the man who has taken you, to whom you've given yourself like a harlot. See his face..."

And then the wax spilled on him and he woke, and distracted me from gazing upon the loveliest visage I could have imagined. I loved him already- what cared I for his appearance? I loved Bastian as well and his appearance was misleading- body of a bear, mind of a scholar, heart of a true, true man. But the man in the bed was so far beyond my dreams of a handsome face, I was dumbstruck until he knocked the candle from my hand. And then he spoke and somehow, I realized what I must have known all along and not understood, not allowed myself to understand. When he spoke, it was his voice as I'd heard it in the dark all along, but it was also the voice of Bastian, of my Bear, of my savior. That my lover and husband were the same man- how could I have not seen it before then?

Then came his tears, his recriminations, his pain at how little I'd trusted him. His explanation that, now that I'd seen his face, the pact was shattered, the spell become a curse- now I'd seen his face and the trolls would fetch him to the ends of the earth, to their own castle that is east of the sun and west of the moon. I'd never see him again, and our child would never know their father, and he would have to stay in that place forever. He would wed a troll, a creature vile and repugnant to every sense. We were doomed.

When I awoke alone, in the forest, the Bear's castle having disappeared, I knew what I must do. I fought so long, walked so far, progressed so slowly. But I made the journey. I had come to the castle none said I could reach- I had bargained with hags, I had ridden the winds, and finally washed up on the shore. The first golden token one of the hags had given me, I easily traded with the troll princess to buy a night here, in my own lover's bed. And he was not even aware.

The battle to get here had cost me so much, and in this moment I feel, for the first time, that it has all been for nothing.

Now, beaten, tired, at wit and journey's end, I hold him in my arms and he does not wake. I cry to him and he does not stir in response to my voice or my pleas. Having nothing left to do, I wend his arms around me and curl up, as I've always done, in the circle of his arms. I wrap him around me like a blanket, and to my shock, he moves slightly- as if his body, even with his mind unconscious, remembers this dance and will go on doing it. One of his hands goes to my belly, where it protrudes, and caresses it in a way that seems loving.

Not knowing if he can hear, I tell him of my journey. I tell him of the fact that the baby moves and I feel it within me. I tell him that I know he's still my Bastian- my lover, my husband, my sworn love- and that I won't let something as trifling as a drugged stupor fool me into giving up hope. I promise him that I've come this far and I will not surrender now. That for his sake, for mine, for the life growing within me, I will win this thing.

The next day I bargain again for a night with the prince, and am granted it in exchange for another of my golden trinkets. The troll princess is so greedy, her bulging eyes growing somehow more red as she eyes the golden comb. She nods her head in agreement to my asking price, and slime flies off of her skin to land on mine, burning where it touches. She slithers away, back in to the castle, indicating that I should come in through the same secret door as I had the previous night, and I thank her, simperingly.

When she is gone, when no one can see, I slip through the secret door and explore the castle as best I can. I keep carefully keeping hidden, not knowing exactly what I'm hoping to find, except that I hope. The hope is that I can learn something about my enemies, the trolls, which will help me defeat them.

"You are the one who cried..."

There is no one around, no source for the voice. I think I see a movement across the hall from where I am and turn- only to see my reflection in a mirror. Can the trolls see me? Did they hear my cries the night before? I imagine they would only delight in hearing the sounds of my pain. Are they speaking to me now, tormenting me further?

"Who is there? Where are you? Show yourself!"

"We cannot. We have no form, but you are looking at us..."

"You are... in the mirror?"

"Yes. We are in the mirrors, we are the mirrors. We are the true lords of this castle, and the trolls cast us into the mirrors when they took our home. They could not make us leave, they could not cast us away completely, but they bound us in this form and here we stay, always watching and listening..."

"You saw and heard me last night?"

"Yes. We know your story now. And we can see the purity of your heart- the strength and truth of your love, your love that brought you here to this castle that none can visit, this castle that none can leave..."

"Do you know how to kill the trolls? Do you know the secret of how I can free my husband and take us all away? Can you help us?"

"We can help you; we know how to defeat the trolls. You are the one who can do it; you are the one who can free us all..."

"Tell me! Please tell me!"

" A sacrifice is necessary to break the spell, to overcome their evil, so part is already accomplished. The journey you made, the perils you faced, that was your sacrifice. And the sacred bond of your marriage is not one that can easily be broken- the trolls are too vile to understand something sacred and holy, and they do not understand such power that lies beyond themselves. That is the power you have over them. That is the power that shall become their undoing. The rest is so simple, so trifling that you may laugh, but you must believe us...

"Your sacrifice, your power, and your love are in your blood. Your blood is the key. One touch of your blood, and the trolls will dissolve into nothingness. They will cease to be if they touch something as pure as your sanctified blood. You will see your lover again tonight, we know, we heard the one they call a princess when she spoke of it. She thinks it will be nothing of import, because she will once more give the prince a sleeping draught and he will never know that he has seen you...

"When you go to him tonight, he will be asleep again. Go to him anyway, tell him your story again, remind him of the entire tale, of the bond between you. Place his hand upon your belly, let him feel the child move. A part of him will know what has happened, even if he does not realize. Tomorrow is the day when the trolls bring him to the mirrored room. They like to make him dance while they watch, they make him dance until he bleeds and they laugh at him all the while, though they are captivated by someone so beautiful and wholly different from themselves...

"When he is in the mirrored room, we will speak to him. We will tell him not to drink anything given him by the trolls. We will tell him of your presence, and he will know we tell truth because part of him will remember the sensation of his child moving beneath his hands, his arms around his true love, the sound of her cries in his ears...

"When you come to him tomorrow, he will be awake...

"To break the spell, to kill the trolls, you must cut yourself and bleed upon his shirt. The next day, he must contrive a way for the troll to touch the shirt, and when your blood touches her skin, she will melt and dissolve. When she is gone, her hold over the prince will be as well..."

"And the other trolls? How should I dispatch them and set you free? It would not be just for me to free my love and not you as well- if only in repayment for you telling me all of this. If I am the one, the only one, who can help you, I want to do it."

"Are you frightened?"

"No. I am only determined."

"That morning, while the prince is using your blood to dispose of the princess, you must sneak away to the room where the trolls eat. After their food is set out, but before they arrive, you must prick your finger- one drop of your blood in each glass will be enough. They will drink your blood and it will kill them..."

I visit the bed of my love that night, and again his body is there, breathing and seemingly asleep- with the sleep deep enough to have only been caused by a drug. I can't help crying again, but I do as I did the previous night- I lay in the circle of his arms, touch his hand to my midsection, and tell him our story again. And the waiting is tortuous. I wonder why it all has to go as the mirrors said, why we could not move sooner to complete the plan, but perhaps they know something I don't (moreover, they certainly know many things I don't), and the timing could be everything, and so I wait.

The next day I walk the beach, and I search the stones there until I find one sharp enough to be almost like a knife. I then sit outside the troll princess's window and I play with my golden apple. She, once more, fails to ask the pertinent question- in this castle beyond the known world, what is a ragged, dirty human girl doing playing in the castle yard? Her eyes see only the golden apple, her mind cares only for her acquisition, and I see the truth of what the mirror said, that trolls understand nothing beyond themselves and their own limited world.

The third night, he is awake. He's like a coiled spring that is about to be sprung- he paces, he shouts so that I can hear him through the walls as I approach. I enter, and he falls to his knees. I rush to him, flinging myself at him, gathering him to me, my heart breaking free from its moorings when his arms embrace me almost too hard and he says my name again and again.

"True, it's all true, it must be true, here you are and I can't believe it and I couldn't- they told me, but I didn't really believe... in my arms again..."

I wrap my legs around his waist and we hold each other, weeping with joy, muttering gibberish as people do when their hearts are mending, when broken pieces melt back into whole, and the world begins to have color and light after the absence of both for far too long.

In that dreadful place we make good, once more, on our vows of love. Like a holy ritual we knit together, and in the height of our passion, the cries the mirrors must hear from other rooms are the cries of two souls finding their way once more to the Eden we had previously forged for ourselves. In that place we are safe, we are protected, triumphant already, and know that we shall never be parted again.

When all is said and done that can be accomplished in the span of a night lasting so few hours, I take the rock from the pocket of my dress. I drag it across the skin of my arm until blood comes forth, and spread it out upon his shirt. He distresses to see me bleed, and also to see that I do not so much as flinch from the pain. He touches my face, a questioning look in his pained eyes.

"What has my love been forced to endure in order to rescue me? What hardships have been forced upon the person whose life I hold more dear than my own?"

"None but those she brought upon herself for not trusting you enough to not look. Had I trusted, truly, completely; had I not been tempted at the thought of seeing the face of the one I loved, the spell would have broken in its own time and this would not have been necessary. I did this- and with my blood, I now undo it."

I leave him, and we agree to meet once more in the room of mirrors. The mirrors in the halls direct me to the dining room. I bleed into the cups set there, then follow the mirrors once more, until I find the Hall of Mirrors. There I sit, surrounded by own reflection, multiplied a thousand times over. I wait.

The walls begin to echo with a noise more hideous than even I have ever heard. There is a keening sound coming from a room far away, the room where my love was tasked with making the princess touch the bloody shirt. It is high-pitched like the whistle of a kettle, and it grows only louder yet somehow lower at the same time, until it is a growl, guttural and painful, shaking the walls. More groans and screams, unnatural and painful to my human ears: this coming from the room where they all eat. An unholy cacophony rising and lowering simultaneously, causing the walls and floors to shake so much that I fear the whole place will tumble and all will have been for naught.

And then the noises combine and become a sort of ringing, the sound growing ever higher. I am curled into a ball, hands over my ears,then arms across my stomach, fearing that the sound will hurt even the ears of my child. I think I feel something pouring from my ears and look at my hand- the noise has made my ears bleed. Just when I think it is all too horrid, that somehow a sound will kill us both, will kill us all, it goes even higher, beyond my hearing, but I feel it in the air. The air shakes and reverberates with some hideous noise that I am thankfully spared. The mirrors aren't, though- they shatter- bursting, spraying glass like blood all over the room, and I hide my face again, but none of the glass cuts me.

The silence that follows the breaking of the mirrors is deafening. Still I cower, unable to believe something else won't happen, arms curled over my child, counting the seconds in heartbeats.

I have learned that the trolls slither and leave trails of slime, they have not feet for stepping. So it is that footsteps, approaching footsteps make me lift my head. I see a man, woman, and girl come toward me. They are dressed in finery of a long ago time, and they hold hands as they approach. The girl touches my face with the hand not clasped in her mother's, and I look into eyes that are weeping.

"You have saved us all, brave Constance. We are free."

They help me to my feet, and I am heartily embraced by them, and I embrace them back, weeping, unable to say all the words to thank them for their help. And then someone else is embracing me from behind, and they clap my husband on the back and thank him as well before stepping back and away from the pair of us.

Then I turn in his arms, to see my husband's face. Before now, it was only seen by me in the light of a small candle, and then in the dim firelight of his chamber. In the full light of day, I am taken aback at his beauty once more. This face that has kissed me, that has been with me all the while but that is so new, so much more than I would have dreamed. I would have loved it just as much had there been any flaw upon it, but I see none as I look. I see only the skin that is dark like the bear's nose, hair that has the paleness of his fur. His eyes are so light, so blue, that light shines through them as they look at me, and I know they see all the way to my soul; just as they light the way for me to see all the way into his.

His arms are about my waist, holding tight to him, as if afraid to surrender me up, and I feel like I speak for both of us when I say,

"I cannot believe that this is over, that some other calamity is not waiting to fall from the heavens to afflict us again. Can it be so simple that I truly have everything now? That my Bastian Bear should be my nighttime love, that by wedding the one I wed the other- that I can embrace both by holding the one, is more than I would have imagined could be true."

"I was forbidden to speak of it- the spell prevented me telling you all that I wanted to say. And I had such things I wanted you to know. Always on the tip of my tongue but never spoken."  
>"I was too in love with both of you to think it possible that anything could be better. I could not look beyond my own happiness to dream that more was in store for me."<p>

And then the words become lost as we merely hold each other, kiss each other, and weep tears of disbelief that, perhaps, our trials might finally be completed. After a time that is so long it felt not nearly long enough, a cough makes us come back to ourselves. We turn to the three others in the room and I blush that I've forgotten them. But so great is all of our joy, they simply smile indulgently; as people will do in the presence of lovers who are reunited.

"You have freed us, and now you are free as well. The best thanks that we can offer is to send you back to your home. When the trolls died and the spell was broken, the prince's castle was restored. Shall you go there now?"

They lead us to the one mirror that hadn't broken- it seems to glimmer and shine somehow, as if producing its own light instead of reflecting it.

"This is a portal. It will carry you to where your heart most wishes to be. Go, and with you take our blessings and thanks." There is much embracing and thanking on all sides, and we all still seem to feel a daze after our individual and combined adventures.

And so it is that Bastian's arm goes around my waist, mine around his, and we step through the mirror, back to our own home. One might think that our tales are over- for, when a girl has married a polar bear and rescued a prince from the castle that lies east of the sun, west of the moon, what other stories could compare? But, for us, everyday is a new adventure, every moment of serenity worth recounting, and every embrace grows sweeter than the first. Children will come, and add their own tales of challenges met and dangerous overcome.

But those are stories for other times, other days, other daughters and lovers to tell. My part of this tale has concluded, but the story itself never does.

**The End**

_Author's Note: This has been my favorite fairly tale for most of my life; I can only hope I've done it justice. My favorite incarnation of the story is in the picture book with George Dasent's words and illustrations by P.J. Lynch. If you haven't seen it, you ought to find it. The illustrations are gorgeous beyond compare. I feel like I ought to also mention the version of this story in novel form by Sarah Beth Durst, which was called Ice. Credit where credit is due: the notion that once the Bear turns back into human form he retains his black skin and white hair is hers. I hope it can be taken as the homage it is meant to be that I included it here. It's one of those details that, once I read it, entered into the canon of the story for me._

_ One million and one thanks to Lexy, for being my dauntless supporter and ceaseless help. She is the best of friends and someone without whom... well, I'd rather not think about it._


End file.
